


Headlong

by Faded_and_Fleeting



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol and Drinking Mention, Day 3: Sandwiches//Drinking, Keith (Voltron) is an Assassin, M/M, Sheith Month 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 19:02:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faded_and_Fleeting/pseuds/Faded_and_Fleeting
Summary: Keith wants a new play-toy and ends up with someone more than he bargains for.





	Headlong

**Author's Note:**

> This is my third contribution to @sheithmonth! I had a lot of fun writing this piece.  
> A warning: Minor NSFW contends towards the end, but nothing explicit.

A drunk stranger falls to his knees, and with one violent contraction the congealed contents of his stomach end up on the glossy wooden tiles just a few feet away from him, and it creates a ghastly stench.

He glances around the bar, his discerning eyes easily making out the surroundings despite being shrouded in darkness, and thinks about leaving. He considers visiting another pub to scope out another victim that suits his liking. The shady little place he’s in now has never disappointed him, but Keith notices that with each new face he picks up, the less entertained he is. All he wants is a challenge, someone who can put up a fight and give him hell. He wants someone who looks like they’re in charge and has everything under control, yet still bends over for him the minute he asks. He wants someone who fears the pain of punishment but craves the pain of pleasure.

The fact remains: Keith is an artist.

He admires the beauty in his victims; revels in the strength and power he feels from his firm establishment of dominance and control. He basks in the bliss that comes from a fresh kill. In this place, there’s nothing for him except for innocent lambs waiting to be fed to the wolves; no bark, no bite, no challenge.

Yes, even Keith has standards, and none of them make the cut this time around. It’s disappointing.

He rises to his feet and takes his leave, the bells on the door handle jingling softly as he opens the door and steps out into the night. He breathes in the crisp night air and reaches into his back pocket for his pack of cigarettes and his lighter. He casually plucks one from the small box, lights it, and settles it between his lips. He tucks the remainder into his back pocket before taking a long, slow drag, exhaling a thick cloud of putrid smoke whose scent clings to his leather jacket, and continues on his merry way.

—

Genesis is probably one of the most well-known nightclubs in LA, and apparently one of the best places in the city to find a new play toy. Or so Allura says. Keith’s heard stories of Allura’s endeavors to track down her assignments. Luring them to Genesis and getting them in the back rooms seems to be Allura’s surefire method of quick, quiet disposal while having a little bit of fun with it. And she’s in there again tonight.

Why not experiment for himself? The night’s still young, and there’s an ocean of fresh faces to scope out.

He plucks his half-smoked cigarette from his lips, tosses it to the ground, and crushes it with the heel of his boot. He reaches for his cell and sends a brief text to Allura to let her know he’s on his way in.

Keith slides past the club bouncer with ease, and all it takes is a little sweet talk and a flutter of the lashes.

The inside is nothing that he doesn’t expect. It reeks of alcohol and sweat. The heavy beat of the music pulses in his veins. Neon LED lights flash erratically over a mass of moving bodies on the dance floor below. People are talking, cheering, screaming, getting high on the rush of adrenaline that pumps through their veins. It takes all of one sweep over the crowd for Keith to know that none of them are worth his time and attention.

Although, he thinks, there’s no harm in enjoying himself at least a little bit. Have a couple of drinks. Get buzzed. Maybe fuck around with a few of the pretty ladies.

He saunters to the bar, leaning casually against the sleek obsidian countertop, hailing one of the bartenders over with the simple flick of his wrist. It takes a few minutes before one of them comes over, and Keith has to admit she’s a pretty little thing scantily dressed, but not someone he has an interest in making his plaything.

“What can I get for you?” she asks.

“Get me a double tall vodka cranberry on the rocks and a shot of Grey Goose,” he tells her.

She nods and scurries off. Meanwhile, Keith pulls himself into one of the bar stools and swivels around, once again peering at the crowd. He spots a familiar mane of silky white hair done up nicely, and the elegant curves of her body emphasized by the tight fit of her sultry lace mini dress. Allura’s here as she said she’d be, chatting up a few younger guys in an obvious search for a fresh toy. Keith has to wonder if she’s already burned out her latest one, or if she’s looking to find a ‘playmate’ for her plaything.

The bartender comes back with his drink, and he briefly thanks her before immediately downing the shot of Grey Goose. Keith reaches into his wallet and gives her his card to pay for the drinks themselves, and then slides her a rather large bill.

“For your trouble,” he snorts, trying not to laugh at the astounded face she pulls. She gives him another shot of Grey Goose without him even asking for one.

By the time he fixes his eyes on the crowd again, Allura is already gone, most likely having found her catch. Once again, the crowd is no more than a simple mass of innocent lambs, unaware of the potential threat that is seated in their midst. They’re all too easy. It’s a bit disappointing.

He curls his fingers around his drink and lifts the glass to his lips, taking a small sip. The air shifts slightly. Keith glances over to his left and spots a new face just two chairs down. What he sees is a man made of rigid muscle and nothing less. He looks like he’s alone, a bit out of place for this kind of nightclub. But at the same time, he acts like he fits right in. Keith notices the confidence in his posture as he sits there and makes light conversation with one of the bartenders. He’s too outgoing, too intimidating, too familiar to this kind of setting to be anyone from what Keith deems the outside.

There’s a pause. The man slowly turns his head in Keith's direction, and Keith internally curses and looks away. He’s being a little too forward with his staring.

He resorts to people watching, occasionally sipping from his glass. He side-eyes the man every few minutes, and each time he looks, the man is staring at him. Staring hard. Keith notes his gaze. It’s calm, collected, calculating. At the same time, there’s intrigue within the storm of his eyes and something that looks like hunger. It’s a look that makes Keith shudder.

Keith wonders if there are actual sirens outside or if the noises he’s hearing now are coming from the back of his mind and telling him to get the hell out. He hasn’t heard that sound in such a long time, and he’s missed the clear sense of danger that comes with playing with a new victim.

This time, though, that feeling is different. He’s not the one producing it. Rather, it’s coming from the man a couple seats down.

Needless to say, Keith is intrigued.

He downs the rest of his drink and the extra shot the bartender gave him and waves her down.

“Get me another double tall vodka cranberry on the rocks, sweetheart,” he says.

She comes back a few minutes later, and just when Keith is about to hand over his card, a voice pipes up just next to him.

“Put that on my tab.”

Keith turns his head. Standing right up in his space is the stranger that’s been eyeing him for God knows how long. Up close, Keith finds that he’s severely underestimated just how gorgeous this guy is; broad shoulders compliment his jaw and heavenly sculpted features. A reddened scar passes from one cheek, over the bridge of his nose, to the other, and Keith wonders how he got it.

Giving the man a clear once-over, Keith also wonders where that metal hand came from and how it would feel gliding across his fevered skin.

Does he want to have sed with this nameless stranger? Perhaps, yes. But strictly on his own terms and played by his rules. He’s not here for that horny college boy shit. Even at twenty-one, prime typical college fuckboy age, he knows what he wants, when he wants it, and how he wants it.

“Do you always offer to put a stranger’s drink on your tab?” Keith decides to break the silence between them.

Amidst the lights, Keith sees the man’s lips quirk slightly, and god if that smirk doesn’t make his stomach twist in knots.

“Not unless they’re really attractive,” the man answers.

“Really?” Keith chuckles. “How many people have you found like that?”

“Up until now?” the stranger hums, sliding into the seat next to Keith. He leans against the counter, resting his chin in his right hand as his eyes rake over Keith’s body. “Not a single person.”

“That so? Well, aren’t I special,” Keith murmurs, pursing his lips slightly. He lifts up his drink and takes a quiet sip.

“Quite,” the stranger agrees. “You know, I don’t see you around here often. You new?”

“Well, I’m not a regular if that’s what you’re asking,” Keith shrugs. “I frequent Octagon. It’s closer to my house.”

“That’s pretty far off. Why come all the way down to LA?”

“You could call it a special field trip.”

This piques the stranger’s interest. Keith can see it in the way he leans slightly forward the way his eyes light up with curiosity. He side-eyes the stranger, quirking his lips as if to say, “Like I’d tell you.”

The stranger catches on and bursts out into laughter. “Oh my, how cruel. And here I just paid for your drink.”

“One little drink isn’t enough to buy my affection. Or my secrets.”

The stranger grins. “Then how about I get you another?”

“Am I allowed to pick what I want?”

“It’s all on me, sweetie.”

“Alright. Just make sure you don’t regret it.”

—

One drink with the stranger turns into two, and then four. Soon, Keith is matching him shot for shot of Grey Goose.

They continue to chat, and Keith finds out a few things. First, the stranger is well and happily single. Second, he’s the head of ALTEA, a prestigious entertainment industry specializing in movies and television shows. They also own a few nightclubs around LA, including Genesis. And third, he’s got a thing for danger. He likes to take risks, to live out on the edge of life. He likes to see how far he can push his limits and the limits of others and knows how to do it without dragging his brand through the mud. Keith likes that.

By his seventh shot, he’s rosy-cheeked and bleary-eyed. By nine, he’s getting impossibly close. By eleven, he’s tossing back the alcohol, leaning forward and forcefully sealing his mouth against the stranger’s and sharing it between them. And the stranger doesn’t mind. In fact, he seems to rather enjoy it.

His hands settle at Keith’s waist, fingers digging roughly into Keith’s sides, and Keith moans against his lips.

“I would very much like to take advantage of you tonight,” the stranger growls, barely letting his lips leave Keith’s. The language he uses is unnervingly informal, and Keith wants so badly to break it.

“Oh, sweetie,” Keith murmurs, “the only one taking advantage of anything here is going to be me.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” the stranger hums, left hand sinking between them to Keith’s crotch. The choked sound Keith makes as the stranger massages his length is honey and red-velvet, liquid smooth and addicting to the man’s ears. “But we’ll have to take this elsewhere, I’m afraid.”

“My car is a couple of blocks away.”

The stranger shakes his head. “I have an office upstairs.”

“Sounds tempting,” Keith purrs. “But before we head up, I’d just love to know your name.”

“Call me Shiro.”

“Alright, Shiro. A couple of things. First, you better have a sturdy desk up there.” Keith pulls back, baring his teeth in a feral grin. “Second, the name you’ll be screaming tonight when you come is Keith.”


End file.
